


If I Tell You

by LadyNoodleoo00



Series: The Seijoh Initiative [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Assassin AU, Cannibalism: Oikawa eats pancakes, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Homophobia AU, POV Alternating, tagged mature for the violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNoodleoo00/pseuds/LadyNoodleoo00
Summary: How am I this unlucky? Am I going to be written up? Will he kill me on our walk? I didn’t even bring anything, am I about to die?The questions continue to slam him mercilessly, but most of all he wonders: am I going to lose Hajime tonight?Because the man sitting in front of him is most certainly his boss, just as he is most certainly not a photographer. No, Oikawa has been trained since childhood to be an assassin, and sitting before him is the man that decided that.Or, an assassin falls in love with his physical therapist. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Series: The Seijoh Initiative [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798969
Comments: 27
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emigmatic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emigmatic/gifts).



> A HUGE thank you to my beta @emigmatic!! She is amazing and everything I could ask for in a beta/friend! Also thank you to @o-o0613 (Tumblr) for helping me create this concept/world and brainstorming with me!

Iwaizumi would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. It’s not as if this is his first time in this situation, but it has been a while. Three, maybe four years? He trusts the man beside him to behave himself, at the very least Iwaizumi knew that his charm came easily. No, this was about what normally comes after. Once he’d finished school, his mom (and her little circle of friends) began asking the questions, the marriage questions. Are you seeing anyone? Have you thought about settling down? When are you going to give me a daughter or son-in-law? He begins drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, but his thoughts are interrupted by a comforting squeeze on his thigh.

_ “Hey, are you okay?” _

_ The man startled slightly before giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. _

_ “I don’t know, how about you tell me…” a quick sweep of his eyes supplied him with a name tag, “Iwaizumi Hajime. Do you always ask such silly questions Iwa-chan?” _

_ Iwaizumi scowled at that, his brain immediately supplying the words ‘pompous’ and ‘prick’ for the caramel-eyed stranger standing before him. He made note of the stranger’s slight shift in weight as he brought himself to his full height. Iwaizumi’s scowl deepened as he realized that this placed him a few centimeters above his own eyeline, which forced him to look up into the smirk that graced the man’s features. _

_ “Well I’d guess not, given you’ve messed up your right knee somehow. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? And don’t call me that. I’m your trainer, not your friend.” _

_ Displeasure and a hint of something else flashed across the man’s face before it was replaced with another smile, this one wider and nearly threatening. _

_ “Iwa-chan don’t be so rude to your new patients! You should be grateful the great Oikawa-sama has chosen your clinic as the one important enough to offer their services for his knee,” he finished with a flourish, tilting his head slightly in order to emphasize the bounce of his curls. _

_ Iwaizumi couldn’t believe his misfortune. Of course this man had to be his last appointment of a particularly grueling day. He ignored the last comment and directed him to the consultation room, adamant on getting this over with as soon as possible in order to head home and leave the week behind him. _

The memory leaves Iwaizumi with a rueful grin as he glances at his passenger who’s still regarding him with concern in his eyes. Iwaizumi gives him a small smile before returning his attention to the road ahead; Miyagi was still three hours away and worrying about the future wasn’t going to solve anything. Oikawa returns to whatever analysis or rant he was talking about, something about the newest species of bird he wanted to capture for his next photoshoot and his plans to beat Ushiwaka to it. If there is one thing Oikawa lives for, it was his work as a nature photographer.

_ “Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan! Did you miss your favorite patient?”  _

_ “Shittykawa your appointment isn’t for another fifteen minutes, I’m still finishing up here,” he glanced at the figure in his doorway as said figure made his way over to hop onto his desk. Well, paperwork will have to wait for another time he mused, already beginning to push it in a haphazard pile as he turned his attention to the newest addition to his desk. _

_ “Iwa-chan, of course I came early! If we finish early, you’ll be able to get dinner with me tonight~” Oikawa purred, looking back slyly at Iwaizumi as if that was going to break his resolve.  _

_ “Why the hell would I be getting dinner with you, Kusokawa? I can barely tolerate your presence when I’m being paid to do so, forget voluntarily subjecting myself to that.” He gets up from the table, walking into the adjoining room as Oikawa follows, still energetic despite the rejection. _

_ “Mean, Iwa-chan! Of course I would pay, Iwa-chan has been helping me so much this past month. I have so much to thank him for.” On the last few words, his voice dropped an octave, and Iwaizumi made a point of not turning to face him as he set up the equipment. He was well aware that Oikawa was an objectively attractive man, but he knew better than to pursue anything with a patient, much less one that was such a flirt. Iwaizumi was familiar with guys like Oikawa and their string of conquests. He had no interest in becoming another one-night stand or an interesting story at a party (“oh, I seduced my PT once.”) He gestured at Oikawa to lie down on the mat.  _

_ “Hey, you know you’ve never told me how you got this injury. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”  _

_ Oikawa froze then, midway through taking off his jacket before he went to join him on the mat. The sly smile returned.  _

_ “I’m glad Iwa-chan wants to learn  _ so much _ about me. Maybe we should talk more during dinner after~”  _

_ That one earned an eye roll and a grunt.  _

_ “Oi! Forget I asked Crappykawa. Have you been doing your exercises…” _

Iwaizumi tunes back into Oikawa’s rambling just as he’s finishing. He can’t help but chuckle at the triumphant smirk and glint in Oikawa’s eyes, as if the dramatic presentation of his plan has guaranteed the win against his rival. 

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing, Tooru,” he spares a glance at Oikawa before continuing, “I know how hard you’ve worked to map this location for this year’s migration. Talent is something…”

_ “...You make bloom!” Oikawa nearly screamed. He was shaking, eyes bloodshot as he glared at Iwaizumi, daring him to challenge his words. Iwaizumi was shocked—it’d been two months of steady improvement from Oikawa and yet today, Oikawa had limped in ten minutes late with a swollen knee and the need for a fight. He hadn’t greeted Iwaizumi or his secretary, just aggressively (or as aggressively as he could with his limp) made his way over to the PT room, foregoing his normal flirting and innuendos. It had taken fifteen minutes of Iwaizumi’s gentle probing to even get a pain level response. It had taken another five to get an explanation for the state of his knee, but once he started everything came pouring out.  _

_ “Ushiwaka won the award I should have—no I would have gotten if my damn knee would just work! I was so close to completing it. All I needed was one more—” he stopped himself, his voice cracking, “He’s always telling me I should use his methods more, be more like him. But I’m just not like him. I am not a genius. I have always been told—been taught, that talent is something you make bloom!”  _

_ Iwaizumi moved slowly, gingerly removing his hands from their place on Oikawa’s knee as he considered his next words. He wasn’t sure if he knew him well enough to give advice while he was in this state, but Oikawa clearly needed someone—anyone—right now.  _

_ “Oikawa, some things are just out of your control. I know this must hurt, but you have a whole team behind you. You talk about your friends, I know they would help. And you have me, I—I’ll help. We’ll figure this out together,” Iwaizumi awkwardly adjusted to put an arm around him.  _

_ That was all it took for Oikawa to break down, collapsing into the half-hug. He was sobbing then, tears and snot streaming down his face. This Oikawa was raw, he was baring his entire soul for Iwaizumi to see, no more fake smiles or dancing around questions. Iwaizumi couldn’t help but find him breathtaking.  _

_ “It’s okay, let it out. It’s gonna be okay…” _

_ Eventually Oikawa had cried himself dry, his sobs reduced to sniffles as Iwaizumi offered him another tissue.  _

_ “So, you still haven’t told me how you hurt your knee in the first place. What happened anyways? Do I need to beat up this Ushiwaka guy?”  _

_ Oikawa visibly shifted and Iwaizumi noted that his cheeks were now dusted with a sweet shade of pink.  _

_ “Oh that, well, I was climbing a tree, doing some recon—for bird watching you know—and I,” he swallowed and looked down, “uh, I kind of fell. I landed straight on my right leg, tore my ACL straight through. I was recovering from surgery, actually, when I first came to see you.”  _

_ Iwaizumi stared at him incredulously. He hadn’t really conjured up any scenarios for Oikawa’s knee injury before, but nothing could have prepared him for that. Well, that and Oikawa’s endearingly embarrassed expression. He covered his mouth and snickered, unable to hide the giggles that began to bleed through.  _

_ Oikawa’s eyes shot up, then narrowed, but his lips were already twitching. Soon they were both in hysterics, the tense atmosphere melting away, along with any reservations Iwaizumi thought he had.  _

“Iwa-chan look! 50 kilometers to go! We’re nearly there!” 

“I didn’t realize you were so excited. Weren’t you having a nervous breakdown over this meeting yesterday?” Iwaizumi teases, grinning when Oikawa squawks and removes the hand from his arm.

“Well that was yesterday! Why wouldn’t I be excited to learn more about Iwa-chan?”

_ “Iwa-chan tell me more about yourself. I always talk about myself, but Iwa-chan never does. I know I’m interesting but Iwa-chan should really practice his self-expression skills more oft—” He was cut off by a jolt of pain when Iwaizumi hit a particularly sore part of his knee. Iwaizumi looked up apologetically at Oikawa’s wince but continued to massage the spot to try and alleviate some of the tension.  _

_ “What do you want to know, Shittykawa? And I can tell you’ve been on your knee more than I said was okay, by the way.”  _

_ Oikawa chose to ignore him, “Why did you choose physical therapy? I know I make fun of Iwa-chan’s caveman ways, but I bet he’s smart enough to be a doctor or a fancy businessman. Those would make more money, then Iwa-chan could be my sugar da—” This time it’s Iwaizumi that shut him up with a whack to the back of his head. He was about to exclaim indignantly when Iwaizumi answered. _

_ “I knew early on that I wanted to help people. I thought about med school, but it was just too much school for me. I guess I was lazy. Either way, I used to play volleyball and I knew a few guys that got injured. I figured I could help them with that at least. And now here I am,” he glances at Oikawa, a twinkle in his eyes, “helping idiots who fall out of trees.”  _

_ “You’re so mean to me, Iwa-chan! Always so mean, and you won’t even buy me a coffee! Soon I won’t even need therapy anymore and Iwa-chan will still owe me,” Oikawa whined, louder than normal. They both grow quiet. It’s been six months since Oikawa had first declared himself as Iwaizumi’s patient and four months since the Ushiwaka incident. Since then, the two had only grown closer and Iwaizumi had even begun to return some of the flirtatious banter that Oikawa sent his way.  _

_ “Okay.” _

_ “What?” Oikawa actually recoiled. _

_ “I said okay. Finish your PT and then we can go to coffee,” Oikawa beamed at the unexpected acceptance, “but you’re paying Shittykawa.”  _

_ “Mean! SO mean to me!” _

The car pulls into a familiar driveway and Oikawa vibrates next to him. He really seems excited, Iwaizumi notes, apparently living by his earlier resolve that he wants to learn more about his boyfriend. This will be his first meeting with Iwaizumi’s parents, and Iwaizumi can only hope his mom leaves the baby pictures in the attic. The last thing he needs is for Oikawa to have more ammunition to tease him with. Kami knows he has enough by now. He takes a few seconds to stretch his legs as he exits the car, ignoring Oikawa’s whines for help with their bags. 

“I did tell you not to pack so much, Spoiledkawa,” he says, helping him haul the duffels out of the trunk. “We’re only staying for the weekend, you know.” 

“I know, Iwa-chan! But I had to pack gifts!” Oikawa chews on his lower lip for a second, looking away, “I really do want to make a good impression on Iwa-chan’s parents.” Then he straightens and smiles. “Come on! I’m ready to convince your parents that I’m the son they’ve always wanted!” 

He ducks to avoid the empty waterbottle Iwaizumi chucks at the back of his head (seriously how does he do that? Are there eyes on the back of his head?) and strides towards the door. 

It’s Iwaizumi’s mother who answers the door, apologizing for his father who’s been held up with work. It takes approximately 30 seconds after introductions for her to become smitten with Oikawa, and soon Iwaizumi really is being ignored in favor of Oikawa. He doesn’t mind; it’s sweet that his boyfriend is already getting along so well with his mother. Plus, it’s been a few months since he’s been here last, and there’s a weight that is lifted off his shoulders as he settles into the familiar surroundings. 

He allows his eyes to skim over the living room; from his dad’s favorite pen, left carelessly on the table next to his reading glasses, to the rack of (mostly) broken umbrellas that the family never seems to throw away. In the background, Oikawa is cooing over his family’s heirloom clock while his mother giggles and modestly deflects the flattery. She excuses herself to check on dinner, leaving Oikawa to flit back over as he too glances around the room.

“C'mon Prince Charming, let me show you where to put your stuff and wash up before dinner.”

Iwaizumi’s dad doesn’t show up until they’re halfway through dinner, in the middle of explaining to his mother that they’ve only been going out for three months despite them knowing each other for the past eight months (she is aghast that her son wouldn’t immediately go out with such a charming man). He greets his wife with the customary kiss on the cheek before hugging Hajime and introducing himself to Oikawa. 

“Nice to meet you Oikawa-kun, my name is Iwaizumi Rikuto.” There is tension in his smile, which amuses Iwaizumi to no end. Of course, his dad is gonna do the whole overprotective thing. A quick glance at Oikawa’s slightly strained smile lets him know that Oikawa is aware of his father’s intentions (or at least aware that he has not charmed him as easily as Iwaizumi’s mother). Regardless, dinner continues uneventfully, and Rikuto invites Oikawa to take a walk with him to the community gardens after dinner to show him the flowers he’s cultivating, hinting that he would love to have a nature photographer take some pictures for him. Oikawa agrees a little too quickly, with a smile that’s too wide to be entirely genuine. Iwaizumi shoots a concerned look at his boyfriend, but he is placated by a genuine softness in the small look of reassurance that Oikawa sends back.

Nonetheless, when both his parents go to the kitchen to do the dishes (turning down the boys’ attempts to do them themselves), Iwaizumi questions Oikawa again if he’s gonna be alright by himself. He’s not that worried that his dad will do anything, but he doesn’t want Oikawa to be uncomfortable. 

“Don’t worry Iwa-chan, it’s just a walk, what’s the worst that can happen?” There’s still something behind Oikawa’s eyes that Iwaizumi can’t quite place, but just as he’s about to respond he hears his dad return. Oikawa stands and goes to put on his shoes, meeting Iwaizumi’s eyes long enough to smile (genuinely this time). 

“We’ll be back soon, just want to show Oikawa-kun some flowers,” his dad repeats unnecessarily, clearing his throat and exiting with Oikawa trailing behind.

* * *

Oikawa is halfway through whining about Iwa-chan’s previous stubborn refusal to his charming requests for coffee when he feels his heart drop through the floor of Iwa-chan’s quaint dining room.  _ Why is he here, _ his thoughts scream as he introduces himself (for the second time) to the man that is supposedly Iwaizumi’s father. Well, he muses, he really is Iwa-chan’s dad, the similarity is undoubtedly there in the strong jawline and olive green eyes.  _ But shit, why him? _ He manages to get through the rest of dinner without alerting his boyfriend (or his mother) of the impending anxiety attack as he tries to keep the thoughts racing through his head in check.

_ How am I this unlucky? Am I going to be written up? Will he kill me on our walk? I didn’t even bring anything, am I about to die? _

The questions continue to slam him mercilessly, but most of all he wonders:  _ am I going to lose Hajime tonight? _

Because the man sitting in front of him is most certainly his boss, just as he is most certainly  _ not _ a photographer. No, Oikawa has been trained since childhood to be an assassin, and sitting before him is the man that decided that.

So here he is, trailing sullenly after the first and only father-figure he possesses; wondering if this a cruel trick by fate for daydreaming about Iwaizumi’s parents loving him like a son earlier in the day. He really thought this was his one chance to have something that was entirely his, something the agency didn’t give him or force him to earn. 

They reach the garden more quickly than Oikawa would like. 

“So…” Rikuto begins conversationally, “what are your intentions with my son?” Oikawa knows his mouth is gaping, truly a fly trap, but as he sputters _ — _ trying to gather himself _ — _ Rikuto let’s out a loud guffaw.

“Honestly Tooru, you looked like you were about to shit a brick. Did you think I took you out here to kill you? You remember I’ve known you since you were eight years old, right?”

Oikawa swallows, “Sir, I really didn’t know. If you want I can leave Ha—” 

He smiles kindly, placing a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. And yet, it didn’t feel heavy somehow, enveloping him in a different, homey sort of warmth. “Now, why would I want you to do that? I know you, Tooru, and I know you would never hurt him.” 

Gradually, his heartbeat slows and his mind begins to process the words. 

“Tooru, really. Do you think I could just ignore all of the time we’ve spent together? You’re as much my son as Hajime is. If there is anyone I trust with him, it’s you.” 

Oikawa manages a wry smile at that. It was true, of course; Oikawa has thought of him as a surrogate father ever since he had first taken his hand and followed him out of that door.

_ His first mistake was choosing to lift from someone so young. At eight years old, even Tooru knew that  _ real _ adults were the ones who were less aware, less likely to stop a skinny kid that had accidentally bumped into them. This one was definitely not a real adult and hovered somewhere between teenager and young adult, maybe twenty-one at most. But Tooru was feeling cocky. He had managed to snag a wallet with enough cash to buy half the store’s milk bread supply earlier, so why not try for a harder target today?  _

_ His second mistake was choosing to lift from someone so mundane. All of his clothing was nondescript. There were no name brand items, no scars marring his face, no interesting accessories; nothing to set him apart from the next person. The only intriguing thing about him was that he seemed to be in a hurry, or at least, Tooru hoped he was with the way his head was down and the speed with which he was making his way through the crowd. So, naturally, Tooru decided to liberate him of his phone which was sitting precariously in his back pocket. It was mostly out anyways, there’s no way he would notice it was gone before Tooru was able to slip between a few people and make his way back home.  _

_ He was almost right about that, the man didn’t notice right away and Tooru was able to slip away. He couldn’t have possibly known that the phone was made to be tracked even if it was dropped into the deepest part of the ocean or run over by a tank. In reality, Tooru never stood a chance.  _

_ They were waiting for him at the orphanage when he got back. Yamamoto-san was ecstatic, she was wiping his face with a damp cloth and reminding him to mind his manners before his shoes were even off. She gave him another once-over and ruffled his hair affectionately before she directed him to the parlor, smile still giddy. Tooru should have been excited too, this was what he had been praying for every night for the last year or so, but there was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. So when he entered the room and immediately recognized the blonde man whose phone was currently sitting in his hoodie pocket, he wasn’t surprised nearly enough. Regardless, he felt himself deflate at the disappointment. _

_ “Yamamoto-san,” there was another man sitting beside him, this one older and infinitely more charming than his younger counterpart, “do you mind if we speak to him alone for a second? I don’t want him to feel too…overwhelmed.” _

_ She blinked, face scrunching in confusion but recovered quickly, “Of course gentleman, please take all the time you would like. I’ll fix you three some tea.” She bowed and left the room, Tooru felt his heart clench. _

_ “Hello Tooru, this is Keishin-kun and my name is _ —”

_ “Look, I’ll give back the phone or whatever. I couldn’t even unlock it so I didn’t get a chance to do anything to it.” Tooru just wished these men would leave him alone, he had thought someone was here because they wanted him. They didn’t have to pretend to be interested, and it was cruel, given how few kids were adopted once they stopped being cute and squishy. Tooru was painfully aware he was rapidly leaving that age group.  _

_ “Well, Grand King—” Tooru looked up at the nickname, “we will need that phone back, but that’s not the only reason we’re here. We are genuinely interested in bringing you home with us. We’ve heard of your skills and we’re here to offer you a choice, a chance if you will.”  _

_ This was unexpected for him. He figured they were just going to chew him out, maybe slap him around a bit for stealing. He had no clue how they knew the special nickname he had been given by the other kids after his first successful lift. The money that he later used to treat everyone to popsicles. Curiosity piqued, he felt himself moving closer to settle into an arm chair opposite the couch that the men were sharing.  _

_ “We have a place, it has other kids in it like here, but at this place we’ll help you improve your skills. We’ll give you some new ones too. It won’t always be easy, but we’ll keep you safe and we’ll teach you how to be strong.”  _

Strong _ Tooru thought, that was something he lacked. He wasn’t strong enough to protect his parents that night, or to protect the other kids when they were picked on for their shitty second-hand clothing. Tooru wanted to be strong.  _

_ He glanced at the man’s outstretched hand and then at his warm olive green eyes. They were open, honest. Tooru didn’t know many things, but he knew that he could trust this man.  _

_ “Well, Tooru, what do you say? Would you like to come to Seijoh?” _

_ Tooru reached over the small coffee table and shook his hand. _

“You know, uncle, I really thought he was the one thing I could have for myself,” Oikawa chuckles bitterly. He doesn’t regret his decisions, but the life has been wearing down on him just a bit. As addicting as the thrill of missions are, Hajime is an escape to a safer, more stable place. Now he’s just another link to the lifestyle he had chosen. 

“He doesn’t know, unless you’ve told him. But I doubt you’re that careless, Tooru. I’d rather we keep it that way. I’ve given a lot so he can live the life he has so far.”  _ Ah yes _ , Oikawa recalls the numerous stories told of Rikuto’s missions and close calls. He was just as dedicated as Oikawa is now, it must have been hard to retire early and take an administrative role.

“Hajime is the most important person to me. The secret will stay, and all that. Don’t give yourself any more grey hairs, uncle.” They both smile at that, Rikuto reaches over to ruffle his hair. 

“Now who are you calling old? Kid, I could still take you, last time I checked. Now take a look at my camellias, they really are nice this year…” 

By the time the two of them make it back to the house it’s been over half an hour. As Oikawa enters he can’t help but giggle at the sheer amount of weaponry in the home. Accepting Iwaizumi’s hug (and the accompanying kiss on his forehead) he does a quick sweep, noting the poisoned knife disguised as a pen sitting innocently next to Seijoh’s latest model of x-ray vision glasses. Next to his foot is a literal gun, actually it’s three of them, hidden amongst their umbrella look-alikes. He follows Iwa-chan into the kitchen where both parents are setting out small plates for dessert. Oikawa wonders if their family clock has already registered his heat signature so he won’t be paralyzed if he decides to get up for water during the night. A quick glance at Rikuto gives him an answer, his left pointer and middle finger casually brushing over his right hand’s knuckles _ — _ Seijoh’s “all clear” signal. 

Iwa-chan leans over to press a kiss into his hair, “Did everything go okay out there, Tooru?” His voice murmurs and Oikawa feels a rush of affection for his boyfriend’s quiet concern. He grins at him, genuine for the first time since Iwaizumi’s dad had come home.

“Yeah Hajime, everything is going great.”

* * *

_ 8 Months Later _

“Kou-chan, I swear to god if you hurt him I’m going to kill you.” Oikawa’s teeth are gritted as he takes in the scene before him. 

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, babe. I’m glad I always have your support.” Iwaizumi and Bokuto are already in position, arms braced against each other as they look at Kuroo for the signal to start.

“Yeah relax,  _ babe _ . It’s just arm wrestling. Plus my money’s on your man, I bet he’s getting a good workout doing all those exercises everyday with his patients,” Kuroo says with a smirk. Oikawa huffs and looks around for something to throw at his messy hair. Before he can find something, Kuroo is already signalling to begin.

He watches in horror as the two men struggle, recalling every sparring match he’s reffed for Bokuto _ — _ whose brute strength puts him in the top 5 of Seijoh (above Kuroo, but just barely below Oikawa).  _ Oh god, he’s gonna break him, he’s gonna break my Iwa-chan. Now how is Iwa-chan going to be able to fin— _

Iwaizumi slams Bokuto’s arm onto the table. Bokuto attempts to catch flies with the gape of his mouth. Kuroo and Oikawa look at each other, then they begin screaming.

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan, that was amazing! Iwa-chan, that was incredible!” He peppers Iwaizumi’s face with kisses, throwing himself onto his boyfriend’s lap, much to his amusement. Meanwhile, Kuroo is gloating to a droopy-spiked Bokuto.

“Wow, Bo, remember when you said you were unbeatable? Remember when you said you’d buy me dinner for a week if I could find someone to defeat you?” Bokuto looks equal parts confused and devastated.

“Wa-wait Iwaizumi. I wasn’t ready. Let’s try lefty,” 

Oikawa knows he’s barely holding it together, he’s one arm-wrestle away from going full emo-mode and tonight is supposed to be fun. “Now, now Kou-chan. My beloved Iwa-chan beat you fair and square. How about we head to that dinner I promised you for helping us move instead?” 

Bokuto definitely perks up at that, already standing up to grab his jacket as Kuroo snickers and sticks his tongue out at Oikawa. 

“Did you guys really have so little faith in me? I mean, you do know half my job is lifting patients and showing them exercises right?” Iwaizumi looks genuinely hurt by their lack of faith, making Oikawa grin and lace their fingers together.

“Of course not, Iwa-chan, I know you’re very strong. Remember last night when you picked me up and _ — _ ” Oikawa’s coos are interrupted by Kuroo and Bokuto roughhousing. They must still be arguing over the arm-wrestling bet. Oikawa actually does remember that one; the result of a night with too many shots and not enough wins for Kuroo (see: zero). He can’t believe Kuroo actually remembers it given that all three of them had woken up the next morning still drunk, he thought he was the only one with any memory of that night. 

“Guyssss, you’re gonna break my new home! Stop or I won’t buy you dinner,” the two break apart sheepishly at Oikawa’s threats. 

“Sorry ‘kawa. We’ll be good I promise,” Bokuto apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck. Kuroo grins and winks, knowing Oikawa is all bark and no bite. The longest he has been able to stay mad at him was three days, when Kuroo had gotten distracted by a pudding-headed kid on a mission that had resulted in Oikawa being shot. They were fifteen. It had taken bribing a trainer to buy the expensive milk bread from an off-site bakery for Oikawa to finally give in. 

The rest of the night goes relatively smoothly. By the time they part ways, everyone is a little tipsy from the drinks they used to celebrate Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s new place. Oikawa finds himself leaning into Iwaizumi’s warmth more than normal as they amble back home. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah, Cutiekawa?”

Tooru blushes hard, he adores tipsy and affectionate Hajime. He nuzzles into his neck as he whispers the next words. 

“I love you, you’re my whole world Hajime. I would rather die than lose you.” 

They reach their door. Hajime fumbles for his keys as Tooru drapes himself over him, softly kissing the back of his neck. As they enter, Hajime pulls Tooru in and quickly closes the door behind him, surprising Tooru with the speed of his movements. Hajime presses him against the door, caging him in with his arms. His olive green eyes are dead serious, lacking any of the glassy alcoholic-haze they had held a few moments ago.

“You will never lose me, Tooru.”


	2. Chapter 2

Oikawa Tooru is a dedicated boyfriend and a loyal man. Which is precisely why he is 200 miles away from said boyfriend and flirting with the incredibly attractive woman in front of him at the most coveted party of the year. What else are Saturdays for?

He takes a few moments to appreciate the ballroom it’s being held in, eyes drinking in the crystal chandeliers and attractive partygoers. For a second, Oikawa imagines what it would be like to dance here with Hajime, if he would appreciate the vaulted ceilings the same way Oikawa currently is. He forces those thoughts down and returns to the task at hand.

“So, darling,” he drawls, eyes becoming hooded as he gazes at her through his lashes. “How did a beautiful girl like you,” an appreciative glance sweeps her body, “ever find herself unaccompanied to such a party?” Oikawa shifts so his weight is on the bar now, tilting his head as he pulls from his drink leisurely.

“Well, Nagashima-san, this is actually my home you’re standing in. I think I’m free to keep company with whomever I would like,” her voice is lilting, but there is a dangerous glint behind her eyes. Oikawa knows this of course, but her profile had indicated that she liked men who challenged her. Pretty boys she could force to submit.

“My, my aren’t you something  _ special _ then? But, as the host, perhaps you should continue tending to your guests. We wouldn’t want anyone to miss you.” He takes his time as he speaks, surveying the room as if he’s completely disinterested in the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices hers widening slightly, shocked that she hasn’t been given the attention she’s normally afforded.  _ Ah, perhaps I’ve taken it too far this time? _

“Like I said, Nagashima-san, I think I’m free to keep company with whomever I’d like,” she moves closer this time, waving her hand towards the bartender for another round.  _ Thank you Kuroo, spot on with the profile as always _ .

Speaking of, he hasn’t seen his profiling expert lately. Hopefully he’s getting his job done right now, it’ll be necessary in a few minutes. The bartender slides two drinks towards them and she takes hers, gesturing for Oikawa to take his own. He raises the glass he’s currently drinking from and quirks an eyebrow.

“Oh just take it,  _ Kaoru _ , I promise I haven’t slipped anything in it,” her voice accentuates his (fake) given name as if she  _ owns _ him, and in a way she does, at least for tonight. 

She is all sex and power now, extending her arm so her delicate bracelets brush the back of his wrist.  _ Gotcha _ . Oikawa draws out his movements as he pretends to consider her gift. Then he smirks, feeling her gaze shift from his face to his long fingers as he sets his current glass down and picks up the new one, swirling it slowly.

She is a predator, and he is nothing but her prey. He swallows hard, then raises the glass to her in a silent toast and takes a sip. Her eyes glint as she watches him and mirrors his movements.

“This is pretty strong, sweetheart. I better be careful or I might make a mistake,” his gaze, once again, crawls appreciatively over her body, “or a few.” Kuroo appears now on the opposite side of the room. He is whispering in a man’s ear, with a smirk that can only mean one thing.  _ It’s time _ .

“I don’t suppose you know somewhere we could go to  _ avoid _ these mistakes, do you darling?” Oikawa moves his free hand to delicately brush along her waist. She grins and her hands move faster than expected, yanking him by the tie before smashing their lips together and pushing her tongue into his mouth. It lasts only a few moments before they break apart and she’s leading him out of the room and upstairs.

It doesn’t take them long to reach her room, but the anticipation is heavy in the air. The second they’re in, he is slammed against the wall, so hard the wind is nearly knocked out of him. He allows her to continue groping him, as she reaches for something on the table by the door. Oikawa goes to undo the zipper at the back of her dress as he hears the gun cock, now pressed against his groin.

“Who the hell are you, and why are you here?”  _ Ah, not as smooth as I thought I was I guess. _

“Now is that a gun in your pocket or are you just—” Oikawa starts to tease, but is cut off by the increasing pressure of the barrel against him. 

“Don’t play games with me, jackass. Start talking or say goodbye to the boys.” She doesn’t even attempt to conceal her anger, red making its way to her porcelain cheeks.

Oikawa gives her a wry smile before raising his hands slowly in surrender. She’s breathing hard, her cheeks are flushed and her pupils are so dilated that she looks a little unhinged. Oikawa takes a deep breath.

“Why the hell aren’t you talking? Do you  _ want _ to never have kids? I’m not fucking around here!” She coughs and he lunges for her, grabbing her wrist and twisting so the accompanying bullet lands between his feet.  _ Thank god for soundproofing _ . He yanks and the gun is pulled away and immediately pointed at the shaking figure. She spits out some blood and makes a move like she’s going to lunge for him before her shoulders droop.

“Well? Do it. Kill me.” Oikawa almost feels something for her; the contrast between the powerful woman from the bar and the hollow girl in front of him is haunting. Almost.

“Oh sweetheart, you’ve been dead for the last 10 minutes.” 

Her eyes widen as she collapses, heart finally giving out. Oikawa steps forward to catch her and gingerly carries her to the bed.

“Those kids had lives too.”

He takes a few moments to straighten the room; wiping the gun clean and placing it back on the table before flicking his wrist and placing the vial of poison in the pocket of his jacket.  _ Slow Reacting: please allow for an eight to ten minute reaction time. _

He finds Kuroo stumbling out of a guest room with his cheeks flushed and tie undone a few minutes later. Oikawa recognizes his partner as the bodyguard who always keeps a close eye on the target. His lips curl in distaste at the sight of his gaudy, chrome plated watch. They make eye contact and Oikawa curls his hands into fists, quickly tapping the back of his right fist to the curled thumb of his left.  _ Mission accomplished _ . Immediately, Kuroo turns to sucker-punch his companion, who’s too dazed from the post-sex glow to do anything but take it. He’s out on the first try.

“Having fun?” Oikawa smirks as he eyes the hickey on Kuroos neck. “Anyone I should know about?”

“You tell me,” Kuroo says and returns the smirk with a sly grin of his own, “Were you having fun?” He gestures at the scratch on Oikawa’s neck while the two of them hurry down the steps and out of the gate. Bokuto pulls up in a van and slides the door open for them, grinning broadly as they hop in. The boys settle into their normal post mission chatter as he heads to their extraction point.

“So, it says here that yesterday’s mission,” there is a pause as Operator-chan seems to be scanning his mission report, “went without a hitch, is that correct Grand King?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were there any unforeseen difficulties? She is extremely well renowned amongst the child-traffickers.”

Oikawa wrinkles his nose as he is reminded of the atrocities that woman had committed, “No sir, everything went according to plan.”

“Alright. Dismissed.” Oikawa rolls his eyes and hangs up the phone. They’re at the Tokyo campus of Seijoh, this one disguised as a private airport complete with two hangars and an extensive underground facility. It’s about 30 minutes from the apartment he shares with Iwaizumi and provides a good cover for the photography career he pretends to have. Unfortunately, it also means he gives his reports to some stiff phone operator (who forces him to use his silly nickname) instead of directly to Rikuto. Oh well, he talks to him enough when he calls to catch up with Hajime anyways. Speaking of, his boyfriend will probably be arriving soon to pick him up...

“C’mon ‘Kawa, let’s go a round, it’s been a while.” 

Oikawa quirks an eyebrow. “Go a round? Kuroo you dirty man, you know my whole heart belongs to Iwa-chan.” 

That earns a smirk. “Hey, everyone! Tooru’s wimping out of a spar! I even told him we’d go with the Cat’s Cradle.” 

Kids start to peek in, wanting to see the top ranking agents that their trainers so often brag about spar. Oikawa scowls at Kuroo. Cat’s Cradle indicates the rules they use for the little kids, with the match ending as soon as one of them is placed in a chokehold. They’re meant to keep the matches quick so the kids can learn the fundamentals and basic movements but keep the flow going as well. 

Still, he really does want to get home to Iwa-chan. It’s been three whole days since he had last seen his boyfriend and he’s sure Iwa-chan is all grumpy waiting for him. 

“Now, now, Tetsu-chan, let’s not forget who ranks above who here.” This brings murmurs around the rapidly growing crowd. It must be breaktime for Class 2 because their audience consists of mostly little kids, eyes bright and eager to see their idols.

“Awww but ‘Kawa, you’re going to disappoint them! Look, they’re all gathered to see a fight right now!” 

One of the kids whimpers, a little blonde girl in the front row looks up at Oikawa with her enormous brown eyes, “Ka _ — _ Kawa isn’t going to fight?” Her eyes begin to water. Oikawa looks on in horror as she sniffles and a slightly older, dark haired girl glares at him, wrapping her arm around her little friend. She opens her mouth to say someth _ — _

“Okay, okay, I’ll fight! But only because of my adorable fans~” Oikawa leans over to lightly pinch blondie’s cheek, earning a giggle, tears already forgotten with the prospect of an exciting fight. 

Kuroo watches this whole exchange with great amusement. “Alright, since I proposed the fight, it’s only fair I allow my dear opponent to choose the rule set we use.” 

Oikawa makes a show of pretending to think, “Which rules should we use...hmm I wonder…” another child shakily raises his hand. “Oh, yes Tadashi-chan? Which rules do you think?” 

“Trainer Takeda always says grown-ups use Weeping Willow!” He squeaks, the tips of his ears turning red as he struggles to maintain eye contact. Oikawa feels Kuroo’s grin from across the room. Weeping Willow is indeed what the “grown-ups” use. It requires a verbal end to the match; sometimes that means saying uncle, and sometimes that means literally sobbing from the pain of Bokuto’s elbow being slammed onto your groin (Kuroo moaned he would never be able to have kids for a week after that). 

“Well, Tetsu-chan? Weeping Willow sound good?”

“You ask like you’re giving me a choice when we both know there isn’t one.”

Oikawa grins and winks. They settle into position, legs bent and arms loose while they slowly circle each other on the mat. Oikawa’s eyes are intense now, no longer holding the teasing light that was in them before. He knows Kuroo isn’t going to make the first move, he never does, always preferring to read his opponents movements before responding with his own calculated actions. They continue circling, Kuroo hesitates for a second before his right foot touches the floor,  _ ah gotcha _ . 

Oikawa lunges forward with the intention of sweeping Kuroo’s leg in order to throw off his balance. Instead he finds himself on the floor, Kuroo having evaded him and slammed his elbow onto his back at just the right moment.  _ Damn him, it was a trick _ . Oikawa quickly rolls onto his back and uses his legs to wrap around Kuroo, arms pushing at his jaw so that he can roll them over. Kuroo manages to tilt his jaw and brace his forearm on Oikawa’s neck, leaning down so the tips of their noses are nearly touching. 

“You’re getting rusty ‘Kawa, and if you wanted to recreate your twenty-first birthday, you only need to ask.” If Oikawa was not rapidly losing oxygen, he would have blushed. He and Kuroo had casually hooked up in their early twenties before calling it quits when the agency had threatened to take them off of missions with each other due to a ‘conflict of interest.’ 

“Like...I...ever...let you be on top!” Oikawa finally manages to shove Kuroo’s face to the side and knees him in the stomach. He scrambles to his feet in time to dodge Kuroo’s tackle attempt, recovering enough to aim a quick kick at Kuroo’s head that’s easily blocked. Now the two of them are in their original positions, circling each other. Oikawa is given two seconds to be dimly aware of twenty quiet, impressed pairs of little eyes as Kuroo goes in for a right hook. It catches the edge of his jaw, but it’s too late for Kuroo and Oikawa uses the full force of his body weight to slam Kuroo onto his back, knocking the wind out of him. Oikawa quickly grabs his arm and twists so that Kuroo is forced onto this stomach, his arm trapped in Oikawa’s vice grip.

“Okay...okay I give. Uncle! Yield!” Kuroo is wheezing now and it almost makes Oikawa feel bad, but his audience awaits. He leaps off of Kuroo, flashing a wide grin and throwing up his victory sign as cheers are released from the once silent crowd. Leaning over, he hauls Kuroo up and slaps him on the chest, maybe a tad harder than necessary as payback for the birthday comment. 

“Well, as fun as this was Tetsu-chan,” he bows to his partner, a move instilled in him by the trainers, “children, I must be off! Iwa-chan awaits!” Oikawa doesn’t even bother changing out of his sweaty training gear and he happily saunters out to the parking lot where Iwaizumi is waiting.

* * *

Iwaizumi is scowling again at his watch. He’s been sitting here for half an hour now, waiting for Oikawa’s plane to land so he can take his idiot boyfriend home. Logically, he knows that this isn’t Oikawa’s fault, even _ he _ can’t control air traffic in order to make it back to Iwaizumi more quickly. But still, a text would have been nice. He knows the private jets that fly Oikawa around have to be equipped with wifi. He was only in Kyoto for some networking event, plus a few weeks ago Oikawa had come back with a fresh cut from a  _ champagne glass _ from those damn jets. Why would you even have glass on a plane? He feels his brows furrow even more—

“Yoo-hoo Iwa-chan~” comes a familiar voice, “You know your face will get stuck like that if you keep it up~” 

It takes all of Iwaizumi’s self-control not to throw the nearest item (an empty metal thermos) at his boyfriend’s head. 

“Oi! Shittykawa! You couldn’t shoot me a text that your plane was running late? You know Kyoto is only an hour away right?” Iwaizumi chides. Oikawa at least has the decency to look sheepish as he reaches into his bag and pulls something out, hiding it behind his back. 

“I’m sorry Iwa-chan,” he pouts and brings a small Godzilla plush to hold in front of him. “Will this help?” His expression is so hopeful, brown eyes wide as he peers at Iwaizumi’s quickly dissolving glare. 

“C’mere, loser. I missed you.” Iwaizumi opens his arms and grunts as Oikawa crushes him in a hug. Warmth spreads throughout his body as he inhales the comforting scent of Tooru, the lavender and musk wrapping around him like a blanket. He’s vaguely aware of Tooru pressing a kiss into his hair, but he’s too caught in the moment. The apartment is lonely without him, even for such a short time. 

“So, you like it then?” Oikawa asks, his tone rising in excitement. Iwaizumi leans back a bit to assess Oikawa first, eyes lingering on the scratches on his neck, before moving to the feral little green thing he’s holding.

“It’s alright, I guess.” He tries to school his expression into something that lacks interest but fails. It really is ugly, but thinking about Oikawa taking the time to buy it for him while he’s supposed to be schmoozing with potential sponsors and fellow photographers is hilarious. 

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Despite his whining, Oikawa is smiling broadly. He runs his hand down to settle on Iwaizumi’s hip and tugs so they’re forced together. Oikawa is still smiling as he closes his eyes and nuzzles their noses together before softly kissing him and pulling away.

“Let’s go home Iwa-chan,” Oikawa looks at him with desire, “so I can show you just how much I missed you.” 

  
  


By the time Oikawa is sated, Iwaizumi’s muscles are aching and it’s nearly dinnertime. As they exit the (now cold) shower, the two of them come to the silent agreement that there’s no way either of them (read: Iwaizumi) cooks tonight. They settle into their normal rhythm; Iwaizumi calls the local pizza place while Oikawa peruses the TV for something to watch. Iwaizumi chuckles, listening to him narrating all the things he doesn’t want to watch when there’s a gasp.

“Iwa-chan! You recorded  _ Secrets of the Universe _ for me?” Iwaizumi feels the tips of his ears grow warm as Oikawa leaps over the couch to wrap his arms around him. 

“Iwa-chan is such a tsundere,” Oikawa teases while tickling the back of his neck with his cold nose. “I didn’t even tell you it was gonna be on! How’d you know?” 

Iwaizumi turns, hiding his face in Oikawa’s neck, “Was just skimming and I saw it...missed you…” He pulls back to sneak a look at Oikawa and sees tears in his eyes. 

“Sappykawa...are you...crying?” 

Oikawa sniffles and looks away, “No! Mean, Iwa-chan! Caring so much about me!”

The next morning, Iwaizumi is greeted with one of his top five favorite sights in the world: Oikawa Tooru’s Bedhead. His ordinarily perfectly placed waves are gone, in their place a rat has apparently made his nest. It’s truly glorious to gaze at Tooru, with the light falling perfectly on his face to illuminate the drool peeking out of his mouth; Hajime wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

As he contemplates whether or not to wake him, his eyes settle onto the scratches he had noticed yesterday on Oikawa. Before his sleepy mind can jump to any conclusions Oikawa shifts, turning over and pawing blindly until his arm is wrapped around Hajime, still dead asleep. Hajime can’t help but let out an amused huff, scratches momentarily forgotten as he nudges his boyfriend awake. 

“Tooru, wake up. I have to start getting ready for work, it’s Monday.” When they had first started dating (and Tooru had begun spending the night) they noticed the glaring difference in their schedules. Being a freelance photographer, Oikawa didn’t have a schedule, per say. He would jet off to wherever he was paid to go, whenever he was paid to go. The only routine he had was his daily 4-hour long workouts (“maintaining my physique isn’t easy Iwa-chan!”). 

Meanwhile, Iwaizumi works a nine to five shift at the clinic. When Tooru had inquired about his own abs, Hajime had explained that he took a two hour lunch every day except Wednesday and worked out then, since there were rarely appointments during that time anyways. He had promptly invited himself to lunch every Wednesday (“Iwa-chan will get lonely!”) and that had been their tradition ever since. 

Iwaizumi’s workout on Wednesdays consists of a self-defense/Krav Maga class that one of his old friends teaches. He had invited Oikawa every week at first, figuring his boyfriend’s athletic build and quick reflexes would make him a natural, but Oikawa always found an excuse not to go. There was always a “boys night out” with Kuroo and Bokuto or he had editing to finish. One time he had even said his knee had been acting up (he never used that one again, Hajime had withheld sex for a week out of genuine concern). After a while, Hajime had just stopped asking, deciding that if he wanted to tell him the real reason, he would eventually. 

“Tooru, really. I have an hour to get ready and eat.” His boyfriend had turned into a koala, arms and legs wrapped tightly around Hajime, and he let out a little whine. Hajime sighs, “If you get up right now I’ll make pancakes.”  _ Ah, that does it. _

Immediately, Oikawa was awake and perky, sleep gone from his eyes as he grins victoriously. 

“Really Iwa-chan? Pancakes?”  _ It’s amazing how much worse he gets when he opens his mouth _ .

“I said I would, didn’t I? Now scooch so I can shower.”

Fifteen minutes later there are blueberry pancakes on the table and Oikawa is moaning his love for his boyfriend. 

“Iwa-chan these are amazing! I don’t know why I ever bother to leave you! I’m gonna become a trophy boyfriend.” 

“Aren’t trophy boyfriends supposed to cook though?”Iwaizumi deadpans. He ignores Oikawa’s indignant noise and continues shoveling food into his mouth, now running behind schedule to accommodate his boyfriend’s addiction to sugar. He’s still chewing as he gathers the rest of his things and starts heading for the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees rapid movement and starts walking faster. 

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan, wait!” 

Oikawa is blocking his path now, mouth still full of pancake as he attempts to chew faster and choke it down before Iwaizumi can leave. Iwaizumi makes a show of sighing and rolling his eyes, just like he does every morning they’re together. 

“Yes, Tooru?”

Oikawa kisses his forehead, both cheeks, his nose, and finally plants a chaste kiss on his mouth before grinning “Okay, Iwa-chan you can go now! Have a good day at work!”

“I love you, too, Tooru.” 

* * *

Wednesdays are Oikawa’s favorite day now. He makes a point of getting up early and reporting to Seijoh by eight so he can get his training and mission briefing over well before lunchtime with Iwa-chan. This week there’s only training, since he has just come back from a mission, and his excitement carries him through it quickly. Even losing to Bokuto can’t sway his good spirits, despite Kuroo’s jibes, and the time moves more quickly than normal. 

On his short walk to the clinic he passes the gym where Iwaizumi takes self-defense classes, smiling ruefully at the missed opportunities to spar with his boyfriend. Of course he wanted to, seeing (and touching) Iwaizumi in the tight shirt he wears to exercise is a favorite of his, but instincts in a fight aren’t incredibly easy to fake. If the instructor is perceptive, they could notice and point out that he’s holding back, which would cause a slew of unnecessary problems that he didn’t want to deal with. So, no Krav Maga for him. 

When he enters, Iwaizumi is still with a patient. To pass the time, he strikes up a conversation with his secretary, a college student named Kindaichi. Kindaichi is animatedly telling him about an introductory photography class he’s taking for fun when something shiny catches his eye through the window. He squints, but can’t place exactly what it is, and returns his attention to the boy. Iwaizumi bids his last client goodbye, and Tooru follows him into his office where he sets the food he’d brought down gingerly.

“So, how’s work been so far, Iwa-chan? Anything exciting happen?” 

“Hm, I had a new client, that was him leaving right now actually. He was cool, I guess, just not very talkative.” 

Tooru arches his eyebrow teasingly. “Do you prefer the talkative ones now? I remember being called the ‘most annoying man that has ever walked into your office’ when I was your patient.” 

Iwaizumi blushes deeply and clears his throat. “Well, you’re just special like that, Shittykawa. What’s new with you? Workout go alright?” They settle into a comfortable conversation for a few minutes, catching up and enjoying the meal together before Iwaizumi looks at him sharply.

“Hey Tooru, what’d you do to your neck? I noticed it yesterday. Those look like nail marks.” 

Oikawa feels all the blood drain from his face as his hand flies to his neck. Sure enough, the skin is slightly raised, puffy and scabbed over in some parts.  _ Tooru you lie professionally, you can do this. _

“Oh it was nothing,” he replies airily, “I just had an itch over the weekend and I must have scratched too hard.”  _ Nice, that’s believable, very goo— _

“Fine. Don’t tell me Oikawa,” Iwaizumi hisses, clearly agitated, “and I’m assuming you have something to do tonight, so you can’t make it to my class? You know, one of my friends from college actually teaches it.”  _ Goddamnit. Stupid Iwa-chan and his stupid perception and my stupid job. _

Oikawa gulps and plasters on a soothing smile. “You know I would, Iwa-chan, but _ — _ ”

“Really? Fake smile, too? Tooru, what the hell? Why can’t you just tell me the truth?” His words are harsh, grating to Oikawa’s ears. Worse than that are his eyes, they’re begging him for the real answer, so mesmerizing and painful that Oikawa nearly opens his mouth to _ — _

“You know what, I think you should go. I’ll see you later. I have  _ class _ tonight. Don’t forget, even though you’re busy anyways.”

“But Iwa _ — _ ”

“Just go, Tooru. I can’t deal with your bullshit right now.” 

Tooru deflates and stands to leave. He lingers for a second, hoping that Iwaizumi will change his mind. 

He doesn't. 

Tooru leaves.

  
  


It’s ten o’clock, an hour after he usually returns and two after he ends class. Oikawa expected him to stay a little later to let off some steam with his friend or talk it out, but this was excessive. His bottom lip was already bleeding _ — _ the result of the stress from the fight earlier _ — _ and now he had just split it open again.  _ Should I? No, you’re being ridiculous Tooru. This is just your first real fight, he’s gonna come home soon _ ,  _ Iwa-chan wouldn’t just leave. _

Oikawa manages ten more minutes of leg bouncing, finger tapping anxiously before he’s flying across the hallway into their room. He goes straight for their closet, fingers searching clumsily for the latch and _ —There. _

Oikawa’s hands are shaking as he pulls it open and locates the clunky device and his off-duty gun. He turns on the device and prays. For their anniversary, he had gifted Iwaizumi with a simple gold necklace, a little cicada pendant strung on (“they’re always loud and have huge bug eyes like you” “MEAN Iwa-chan!”) to remind him that no matter how far apart they were, Tooru was always with him. What Iwaizumi didn’t know was that the necklace also came embedded with a tracker on recommendation from Rikuto. He had hoped he would never have to use it. 

_ Come on, where are you Iwa-chan? _ The tracker finally turns on, and he’s relieved to see Hajime’s dot is along the route home from the gym. He heaves a sigh of relief. Thank god, he’ll see him soon and he’ll apologize and everything will be okay. He’s about to put it away when something catches his eye.

_ The dot isn’t moving _ .

There are no thoughts, Oikawa is just a series of frenzied movements as he shoves the gun into his pants and grabs the tracker, barely even remembering to put on shoes as he’s sprinting down the street. He reaches the spot in two minutes, eyes searching wildly for his boyfriend. Instead, there’s nothing. 

Something bright catches his eye. Next to the dumpster a gold necklace with a cicada pendant is thrown carelessly on top of a note. 

_ How does it feel to lose the most important person to you? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...come yell at me on tumblr @honestlyprettyconfused. Once again my beta is @emigmatic and she is incredible please go read her work!!! I will post the last chapter on 6/28/20 and then I have a one-shot written within the same universe coming up. Also comment down below if you want a KuroKen spin-off, I have something outlined but I'm not sure if I want to write it yet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: I will finally be employing the Graphic Depictions of Violence tag in this chapter, please proceed with caution.

Oikawa doesn’t waste time overpacking. His bag (left full from his last mission three days ago) is still in the same place from when he’d haphazardly thrown it following his reunion with Iwaizumi.  _ God, was that really only three days ago?  _

All he has to do is switch out some of his dirty clothes and throw in a few extra items. He goes to toss Iwaizumi’s Godzilla plush onto their bed, but something stops him. He ends up leaving it tucked next to a faded polaroid from his first mission with Kuroo and Bokuto.

When he steps out into the cool night, he is struck with the silence of it. Unfortunately, it does nothing to quiet the screams in his mind. He allows himself one last glance at the apartment before heading down the steps into the darkness. 

Seijoh is just as eerily still as the civilian world. Oikawa barely notices.

Instead, he beelines for the room that holds the secure lines, taking care not to bang his heavy duffle and wake up the kids. In the back of his mind it registers that he should probably call Rikuto first—he is his primary handler and the father of his boyfriend—but instead he continues on. The operator picks up on the first ring. 

“Agent, please state your codename identity.” 

“Grand King.” Oikawa grips the edge of the booth but it does nothing to quell his shaking hands.

“Redirection code?”

“Alpha-Oscar-Bravo-Alpha,” Oikawa takes a breath in an attempt to steady his voice, “Juliett-Oscar-Hotel-Sierra-Alpha-India.” There’s a brief silence and the line begins to ring.

“Grand King, to what do I owe the pleasure this fine evening?” a confident voice returns. It sounds like a man’s, but with the layers of distortion it goes through to hide the identity of its speaker, Oikawa can’t be sure. 

“Sir, permission to request a mission.” 

“A mission?” The voice chuckles, “My, my, you sure do live up to your reputation, don’t you? First time using this line and you’re practically issuing orders.” 

Oikawa grits his teeth and reminds himself the importance of  _ not pissing off  _ the leadership of Seijoh. Despite this, his hands are now clenched into shaking fists, fingernails digging into his palms.

“Yes, sir, I would like to be granted a mission to search for a missing civilian.” He holds his breath, waiting for the reply.

“A civilian? Now, why should I grant that? We aren’t really in the business of  _ saving,” _ the voice taunts. 

He clenches his jaw and gathers his thoughts. Frankly, he’s not surprised by the rejection, but it still feels too cruel. The leadership of Seijoh knows very little about their agents past their codenames and mission, a step taken to keep personal issues from cropping up. Objectivity is highly valued at Seijoh, and the less known about the agents, the better. It makes it easier—or at least, less hard—to sign their death warrants.

And that’s what some missions are: death warrants.

“Sir, I believe it has something to do with a previous mission. A note was left insinuating—”

“Mission request denied. Hang up this line immediately and report to the barracks.” 

_ The barracks?  _ Oikawa frowns.

“Agent did you hear me? Hang up and report to the barracks. I will have others update me on your whereabouts shortly.” The line went dead. 

Oikawa is completely numb. He stares at the tiny crescent nails marks he’d left in his palms. Then, he slowly brings both hands to his face and slaps, hard. 

The resounding sound echoes throughout the empty room. He begins grabbing his duffle to head…

_ Where, Tooru? Think. Where are you going to go? _

His thoughts whirl before landing on the answer. 

_ Anywhere. Anywhere but here. _

With his mind made up, Oikawa shoulders the bag and turns towards the door. He’s heading straight for the parking lot when he feels the prick of an injection in his neck. 

By the time he’s able to react, the world is dark.

* * *

Iwaizumi is not an idiot, nor is he as dense as everyone seems to believe. He knows that Oikawa is hiding something from him—has known for most of their relationship, if he’s being honest with himself—but he never thought an affair was one of them. Out of everything he has learned about Oikawa Tooru these past two years, he had always thought that his love was something he could take for granted.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

How else was he supposed to take Oikawa’s reaction to the scratches on his neck? Or the fact that he couldn’t be bothered to text Hajime during his “business trips”? Or his ridiculous  _ four hour _ workouts? 

No, it is time to finally face the truth. The man who he had thought was the love of his life is cheating on him, and it’s time to confront him about it. 

He’s walking down the alley that serves as a shortcut to their apartment building when he hears someone groan. Squinting to see through the darkness, he manages to make out a man lying on the ground holding his right knee.  _ Tooru? _

Iwaizumi rushes over and reaches for the man’s shoulder in an attempt to identify him. His eyes widen in recognition. He starts to greet the familiar face.

“Hey, I know you! You were—” 

Someone shoves a black bag over his head and slams him into the dumpster. He’s out on the first try.

* * *

The first thing he notices when he comes to is that he’s still in Seijoh. The slightly metallic, clean scent is something that is impossible to forget. All of the bases smell like this. It has followed him from Sendai to Tokyo, when he’d been promoted after accepting both the stipend and job offer at the age of eighteen, binding him to Seijoh for the rest of his life. 

Right now, it makes Tooru sick to his stomach. 

“Tooru, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize they’d do this to you.”  _ Rikuto?  _ Oikawa swallows down the bile threatening to leap from his throat. He remains silent.

“Here, look let me get this off of you.” Hands reach for his face but he flinches away, unable to get far given his wrists are bound behind his back. “Tooru, really, it’s okay. It’s just me.” 

He tries to kick his legs, but the restraints around his ankles only tighten. The hands finally manage to lift the blindfold from his face and light floods his vision. It takes him a second for his eyes to adjust, but when he does he wishes the blindfold had stayed on. 

“Tooru, I promise everything is going to be okay. I know everything that’s going on right now and I’m going to make sure everything is okay.” Rikuto looks like he hasn’t slept in days. There are bags under his eyes and his voice is rough as he says, “Do you remember the chamomile tea I used to make for you? I took care of you then.”  _ Wait, chamomile? What is he talking about? _

Rikuto ignores Oikawa’s confusion and continues on, “They told me about your last mission. I guess that girl you killed had powerful friends and now they want revenge. Seijoh can’t be held liable for that. I know you never make mistakes, but you’re wrong this time.” 

_ Never make mistakes? Rikuto, you point out every mistake I make during my missions. _

Oikawa knows there’s something Rikuto is trying to get him to realize, something that he desperately needs to understand. He narrows his eyes.

Rikuto reaches forward to shake Oikawa’s shoulders and begins yelling, “Goddamnit you ungrateful brat! After everything I’ve given you this is what you do? How could I have trusted you?” He slaps him across the face and leaves the room. 

_ Do you think I could just ignore all of the time we’ve spent together? You’re as much my son as Hajime is. If there is anyone I trust with him, it’s you. _

_ Wait, chamomile, mistakes, this.  _

Oikawa feels his leg twinge as he realizes Rikuto’s implications.

_ “You’ve really done it this time, haven’t you Tooru?” _

_ “I didn’t have a choice! You know I don’t fucking kill kids.” _

_ Rikuto sighed deeply, but he didn’t disagree (or point out that Oikawa was merely a child himself). “Not even a senior agent and you’re already talking back. I guess it’s true what they say about sixteen-year-olds…” _

_ “Shouldn’t you be glad I’m a junior agent? If I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to boss me around, old man,” he said it with defiance in his voice, but Oikawa knew he had messed this one up.  _

_ But how could he possibly have known that the bodyguard was the actual father of the boss’s kid? Or that the kid knew that and would be willing to die for his biological father? Gutsy kids were really something else.  _

_ “Look, just shut up and listen to me. I’m gonna get you out of this. Now, where exactly are you?” Rikuto sounded like he wasn’t in the mood for banter tonight. Oikawa didn’t mind, he wasn’t in the best spirits either. _

_ “On the rooftop of an abandoned apartment building. I jumped over from the Chamomile Hotel, where Boss-chan was.”  _

_ “Okay, I’m gonna need you to—” Gunshots rang out from across the way.  _

_ “Fuck!” Oikawa yelled out, his leg on fire. A bullet had grazed him and he knew there was no way he was gonna be able to run anywhere.  _

_ “Tooru? Tooru are you hit?” Panic was bleeding into Rikuto’s voice now.  _

_ “Yeah, shit. It’s my leg. I think this might be it.”  _

_ “No. I’m gonna get you out like I told you I would. Now, listen carefully…” _

That night was the first and only night he had ever seen Rikuto cry. It was also the first time he had called him his son. But that wasn’t the point Rikuto was trying to make. 

_ Chamomile.  _ Okay, first clue. The Chamomile Hotel had been torn down a few years ago, and it was nowhere near Tokyo, so that’s a bust.  _ But he wasn’t on the Chamomile that night _ . The apartment building, got it.

_ You never make mistakes _ . He hadn’t that night, not really. The mistake had been on the profiler who had neglected to realize that  _ the bodyguard had a vested interest in the boss _ . His boy’s safety depended on his boss’s survival, so the bodyguard always paid closer attention than necessary.  _ Just like the bodyguard Kuroo had slept with on their last mission _ . 

_ After everything I’ve given you _ . Well, Hajime wasn’t exactly his to give, but he had given his blessing. No, it has to be more than that.  _ Wait _ . The pin Rikuto had given him on his eighteenth birthday, his good luck charm. He always took it with him for missions. Today it was on his _ — _

_ Oh no.  _ Tooru had put it on the strap of his duffel after coming back. He hadn’t bothered to move it back onto his current apparel in his rush to get here. Then, the shine of a gold crown pin catches his attention.  _ So, the slap did have a reason _ , Oikawa thinks wryly.  _ It wasn’t just to literally slap some sense into me. _

Oikawa starts to rock back and forth, eventually gaining enough momentum to topple the chair over. He squirms over to the pin and twists it, so the edge of the crown gives way for a small blade to appear. A few minutes of rapidly sawing at the ropes and he’s free, but there’s still the problem of being trapped in Seijoh’s heavily secured bunker. Plus, all the agents would be on the lookout for him. 

_ Wait, no they wouldn’t. _

Oikawa Tooru is one of Seijoh’s gems. His mission success rate is nearly perfect, and he is the poster boy for clean kills and probable accidents. There’s no way they would let on that their star agent has defected. 

With that in mind, he hurries out of the door and immediately recognizes where he is.  _ Oh, so when they said report to the barracks… _

He doesn’t waste any more time, just reaches over and pulls the fire alarm before heading quickly for the emergency exit. There are shouts and noises of bare feet hitting the floor as children begin to flood the dark hallways, grumbling about another drill. Oikawa takes this opportunity to slip out and go straight for the parking lot. Sure enough, there sits Iwa-chan’s beaten up sedan with the keys in the ignition and his black duffel bag on the passenger seat.

_ God bless Rikuto _ . 

* * *

A slap is what wakes Iwaizumi up. He immediately goes to feel his face, but is stopped by the restraints on his wrists. 

“Have a nice nap?” someone sneers. 

Iwaizumi jerks his head up at the voice, only to be assaulted with a wave of nausea and dizziness.  _ Concussion _ , his brain helpfully supplies. He manages to lift his head up enough to get a good look at his captor, a tall man sporting a nasty bruise on his temple.

“You know, I always thought the Grand King would pick someone more...impressive to settle down with.” The man considers him, shrugging and lifting his gaudy watch up to check the time. “Then again, it has been six hours and there’s no one here to save you. Perhaps he didn’t pick you after all.”

Iwaizumi is feeling way too much like ruining this man’s shoes to think about any of this. He swallows down his nausea and attempts to reason, “Look, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not him. You can take my wallet and I won’t even tell the cops I saw your face.” 

He manages to take in his surroundings. It appears to be an empty, nasty-looking studio apartment with peeling yellow wallpaper and a weird musty smell. The windows have been boarded so the light is just barely peeking through. The only furniture is the chair Iwaizumi is sitting on.

“Oh, I know  _ exactly who _ you are. I saw the Grand King at your office myself. So did he.” He gestures to another man _ — _ who Iwaizumi recognizes as his newest client _ — _ before continuing, “The problem is not about  _ who _ any of us are. It’s about where. For example, where is your rescue team? You must be important, if  _ he’s _ paying you visits.” 

_ What the fuck is going on? Is this a Yakuza thing? Maybe there’s a rival syndicate member that comes to me for PT… _

“I told you. I don’t know any ‘Grand King’ or whatever. Please, just let me go.” Iwaizumi is exhausted. He doesn’t know about any of this, nor does he care. He just wants to go home to Tooru and…

_ Oh yeah, I was supposed to go home and break up with him _ .

The man suddenly loses his patience. Perhaps, there is something about the wistful and forlorn look in Iwaizumi’s eyes that hits a little too close to home; so he decides to backhand him across the face for it. 

Iwaizumi feels his head throb at both the pain and whiplash from the slap. His ears begin to ring and he’s vaguely aware of the man pulling out a gun and pointing it at his head.

“Where is he? Tell me where the hell he is!” 

If Iwaizumi could raise his head, he would see a crazed look in the man’s bloodshot eyes. As it is, he merely opens his mouth and loses the contents of the lunch Oikawa had brought him, dinner having been forgotten in his haste to get to the gym. 

“Egh! Disgusting. I don’t even know why I bother.” Iwaizumi feels a pinch in his neck and then he’s drifting off again.

* * *

Oikawa is speeding down the road when his phone rings, interrupting the onslaught of thoughts racing through his mind. Glaring down at it, he reaches over to ignore Kuroo’s  _ fifteenth _ call and continues booking it across town to the sector scheduled for demolition this weekend. 

_ Stupid Seijoh and their stupid missions. _

He knows that this is their fault Iwaizumi is in this mess. It was  _ their _ mission that he was assigned to go on, after all. He just wishes he knew why they had reacted so drastically. It must be because they value their agents over civilian lives, Iwaizumi is nothing but collateral.

His phone rings again, and this time it’s Bokuto. The voicemail he leaves plays without prompting from Oikawa.

“Hey ‘kawa, listen. I’m not sure where you are, or what exactly is going on. I just know that you’re in trouble. There’s someone here from the uppers looking for you, and I don’t know what to tell him. Please, please answer our calls. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You, me, and Kuroo we’re family. Don’t forget that.” After a moment of silence, Bokuto ends the call.

Oikawa pointedly ignores the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It’s not that he doesn’t  _ want _ to call his friends and ask for help. It’s that he  _ can’t _ . Oikawa would never risk Kuroo’s or Bokuto’s lives (and careers) by asking them to embark on this dangerous and possibly pointless mission. Not to mention the fugitive life they’ll have to live after this, should he succeed. 

_ Oh god, things will never go back to normal after this, will they?  _

He thinks back to the apartment he shares with Iwaizumi. They’ve been there nearly a year now, and it is his  _ home _ . 

_ No, that’s not right, his home is… _

Oikawa’s thoughts are interrupted when he pulls up a little behind the apartment complexes. Immediately, he spots a figure on a nearby roof, apparently keeping watch in case anyone decides to come and break up their little party. 

He glances over at his bag and rummages for his gun. It’s small, but it does have a suppressor already attached, and he should have enough rounds to get the job done. Still, he shudders. 

As an assassin, Oikawa should absolutely feel at home with a gun in his hand. Unfortunately, this has never been the case. Maybe it’s because his parents had been shot and bled out in front of him, or maybe it was because they felt unnatural to him, like he was cheating. Either way, Oikawa has always preferred delicate poisons or staged accidents to a bullet in the head. He leaves that method to Ushijima.

Regardless, he checks the safety before tucking the gun into the waistband of his dark pants and quietly makes his way over to the building. It’s two stories high, and extremely run down; he can understand why it’s been marked for demolition. 

The stairs are out of commission, so he opts for scaling the side of the building instead. For once, he’s grateful for all the silly little competitions he has ( _ had _ ) with Kuroo and Bokuto. The last few training days had all been climbing themed, and with the building's decorative grooves, this wasn’t so different from the climbing wall back at Seijoh. A wave of guilt washes over Oikawa as he remembers Bokuto’s voicemail. 

It’s quickly replaced with adrenaline as he reaches the top of the building and readies himself to leap onto the roof and incapacitate the watchdog. Fortunately, the man is facing away from Oikawa’s silent entrance. Oikawa takes a steadying breath.

Then he plucks the gun from his waistband and shoots him in the back of the head.

* * *

Iwaizumi is woken once again to a slap across the face. Surprisingly, this time he actually feels better, albeit a little more woozy than the last time. In the background, he can hear shouting, although he can’t make out exactly what they’re saying but he can tell they’re frightened. 

Before he can open his mouth to ask what is going on, his kidnapper covers his head with a bag and lifts him to his feet by the shirt collar.

“Looks like today’s a lucky day for the both of us... The Grand King is here to see you.” The man’s voice is completely neutral now, devoid of the crazed anger and teasing lilt from earlier. 

There’s another crash and a thud that is accompanied by rapid footsteps. Two, maybe three men join them in the room. 

“He’s coming Boss, look out.” This voice is also male, but there is a distinct undercurrent of fear running through it. 

More footsteps, slower this time. They grow louder and Iwaizumi finds himself morbidly curious to meet the person responsible for this mess. 

“Yoo-hoo Bodyguard-chan~” sings a familiar voice, “I heard you were looking for me~”

The bag is ripped off of his head while he is simultaneously turned to face the Grand King. Iwaizumi barely feels the cold metal of a gun pressed to his temple.

_ What the hell is he doing here? _

He starts to panic.

“What the hell, Shittykawa! Why didn’t you call the police? Go get help!” Iwaizumi is not rational anymore. He just wants his boyfriend to be anywhere but here. Oikawa won’t even come to his stupid self-defense classes,  _ for fucks sake! _

He’s about to shout again when something stops him. 

This is not the Tooru he knows. This Tooru is wearing a tight black shirt with cargo pants, a monochrome outfit that  _ his _ Tooru wouldn’t be caught dead in. He’s holding a gun like he knows exactly what he’s doing, but  _ his _ Tooru had wrinkled his nose at the mention of going to a shooting range. And his eyes...

The ice in Oikawa’s eyes is foreign to Iwaizumi. He can see it thaw for a second as he looks him over, but then they focus and zero in on the goose egg he’s harboring from his initial knockout in the alley. The ice returns in full force. 

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll drop that gun right now and beg for my forgiveness. Maybe I’ll even give it to you. I know that protecting your boss can come with feelings.” Oikawa’s voice is also cold and foreign. Iwaizumi knows he’s gaping at him like a fish. 

“I wasn’t just her bodyguard you slimy, pompous brat! I was her best friend,” the man lets out a crazed laugh, “She was the most important person in the world to me! And now you’re about to lose _ — _ ” 

Tooru doesn’t hesitate. He takes out both of the man’s kneecaps with his gun. 

Screams fill the room. 

Iwaizumi cringes away from the man’s writhing form as he watches Tooru lunge for the nearest man (who happens to be Iwaizumi's former patient). He grabs his wrist and twists, the snap of his bone breaking audible as Oikawa forces him to the ground and places a knee on his back. Then he shoots him twice through the back of the head. 

Oikawa is still leaning over this man when he lazily re-aims the gun and shoots the other man in the leg, who was attempting to leave the room. He saunters over to Iwaizumi’s torturer.

“So, you thought you could just take him, did you? I recognize you, you know. I saw your stupid watch yesterday.” Oikawa is feral now. His mouth is upturned but his eyes are dark and full of rage. He has a loose hold on the gun, waving it around as he hauls the man up by the hair, “Why didn’t you stop to say hello? I would have  _ loved _ to have a chat with you.” 

Iwaizumi watches with morbid satisfaction as Oikawa uses the gun to backhand him across the face.

“You thought you could hurt me through him? Well, I guess you were right. Too bad you didn’t factor in just how much  _ I’m going to hurt you. _ ” 

That last line shakes Iwaizumi out of his sadistic daze. He must have let out a noise because it draws Oikawa’s attention to him. 

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi’s voice comes out as a whimper. 

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he stops his torture, efficiently killing both men before crossing the room to where Iwaiziumi is cowering. 

“Oh Hajime,  _ oh Hajime _ .” Oikawa is gasping, his hands running all over Iwaizumi’s face, neck, chest as he tries to check him for any other injuries. “Oh god, I’m so sorry Hajime. This is all my fault.” 

“Tooru. Look at me.” 

Oikawa freezes mid-motion to stare into Iwaizumi’s eyes. Iwaizumi can read all the emotion behind them—fear, guilt, and agony over putting his love through so much pain. He’s still not sure exactly what’s going on, but he knows that Oikawa would never intentionally hurt him. 

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi releases a shaky exhale, “thank you for coming to save me.”

That’s all it takes to  _ break _ Oikawa. Suddenly he’s sobbing and he's weakly grasping at Iwaizumi’s shirt. 

“Why would you even _ — _ ” Oikawa lets out a broken gasp, “I will always come to save you Hajime.” 

Iwaizumi starts to cry too then. The stress and fear of being kidnapped forcing him to break down. There’s no more words as the two cling to each other and sob.

By the time they’ve recovered enough to stand, it’s afternoon. Oikawa gingerly helps Iwaizumi around the bodies and they manage to find one (somewhat) safe fire escape so Iwaizumi doesn’t have to climb the way Oikawa had. 

Iwaizumi thinks he’s never been more relieved to see his shitty car in his life. 

He watches, dazed, as Oikawa hurriedly transfers his stuff from the passenger seat to the back plucking something from his bag that looks suspiciously like _ — _

“Here, Iwa-chan, I have a friend to keep you company.” He guides Iwaizumi to sit in the passenger seat and covers him with a blanket before placing the Godzilla plush in his lap. Iwaizumi can only numbly look down at it and pat its head a few times. 

He registers Oikawa starting the car and pulling out of the apartment complex but he doesn’t comment, too busy trying to process the events of the past twenty-four hours. 

An hour has elapsed before either of them utters a word. Iwaizumi turns his attention away from the sunset to look at Oikawa before he speaks.

“Tooru? Back there...all that...you’re not a photographer, are you?” Iwaizumi knows the answer, but he’s still hoping for a different one when he asks. 

“No, Iwa-chan, I’m not. When I was eight-years-old, a secret government agency named Seijoh took me in and raised me.” Oikawa sounds resigned and defeated. He takes a deep breath, his eyes glued to the road, before adding, “They also trained me to kill for them.” 

“So, this whole time…” Iwaizumi trails off, incredulously thinking back to his worries about an affair. 

“I’m so sorry, Hajime. I never wanted it to end up this way. If I could go back in time…” He lets the sentence die on his lips. Oikawa is about to start again when Iwaizumi cuts him off.

“Hey, Tooru. This isn’t your fault. And we’re still together, that’s what’s important right?” Iwaizumi isn’t sure of anything anymore, anything except that he would go to the ends of the earth for the man sitting next to him.

Oikawa glances over and offers a small smile, his hand moving to lightly squeeze Hajime’s thigh. 

“So,” Iwaizumi pauses to clear his throat, “where to now?”

Oikawa hesitates, “I don’t...I’m not exactly sure. Someplace where we can get you checked out and maybe get some fake papers. Somewhere safe.” 

The two of them ponder his answer for a few minutes. Iwaizumi feels his body begin to protest staying awake. He hasn’t actually been to bed yet, unless being knocked out repeatedly during his kidnapping counts. He’s just about to slide off into unconsciousness when a thought occurs to him. 

“Tooru? Tooru, my dad is one of you, isn’t he?” Iwaizumi’s head is too fuzzy now to make sense of everything. He snaps open his eyes to stare imploringly at Oikawa, who gives him a sad smile before turning back to the road.

“He never wanted any of this for you, Hajime. Neither of us did; we always swore to protect you.” Oikawa is intentionally refusing to meet the eyes of his passenger.

“Issokay, poor Tooru” His eyes are starting to slide shut now. The adrenaline is finally wearing off following his rescue. He manages one last look at Oikawa, whose features are illuminated by the setting sun, then he drifts off to sleep, trusting him to take them to wherever they need to go.

_ “Rikuto you promised! No more fieldwork.”  _

_ “This was hardly a mission dear, we were just picking up a kid.” _

_ “Should you really be doing that? You said he was the same age as Hajime.” _

_ “You know how I feel about this, we’re giving them a chance they never would have had. Plus, this one’s a fighter. The other kids call him ‘Grand King,’ he managed to lift Keishin’s phone off of him.” _

_ “He’s still just a boy, Rikuto. Poor Tooru.” _

Oikawa glances over at the sleeping figure next to him. He still feels worry coursing through him, but it has lessened significantly. Once again, his mind wanders back to their little apartment, to all of the knicknacks and furniture they had bought together to fill it. The stuff they now had to leave behind. But that was just stuff. 

_ Hajime, Hajime is my home _ . 

The world seems a little brighter as they drive into the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first fic I've ever written and I had so much fun with it! I really enjoy writing in this universe and I definitely will continue (in fact I already have a one-shot written). Feel free to send me asks on Tumblr if you have any specific requests or questions about what IwaOi, Kuroo, Bokuto, etc. are up to! 
> 
> Tumblr: @honestlyprettyconfused

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I'm obsessed with Achilles/Oikawa comparisons so I named Rikuto (loosely) after Achilles' father Peleus ("muddy"). Rikuto means land which is the more solid and dependable version. 
> 
> Also come yell at me on Tumblr @honestlyprettyconfused


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